The Academic God Becomes an Internet Sensation After Joining a Dating Show - Chapter 79 - The Stolen Kiss

The golden boy and jade maiden lifted the couple back into the palanquin.

Qing Lin was pushed inside, and before he could even settle down, the palanquin began to move again.

Wait, where are we going?

Surely, they weren’t actually taking them to the bridal chamber?

Though Qing Lin knew the so-called wedding night was merely part of the setup, the thought still made his cheeks flush inexplicably.

Too bad the veil had already been lifted—otherwise, he could’ve hidden his burning ears beneath it.

Suddenly, every lamp went out.

Instantly, darkness swallowed everything. Not a single glimmer of light remained.

Qing Lin stiffened in surprise, uncertain what might happen next.

The palanquin seemed to stop. Outside, faint rustling sounds drifted through the silence, accompanied by distant murmurs—too soft to make out.

He leaned slightly toward the window, trying to listen, when a sharp infant’s cry split the air right above him.

His hand, which had been reaching for the curtain, froze midair. The faint glow that had flickered at the corridor’s end vanished completely.

Qing Lin held his breath.

Speak not in darkness.

The rustling grew nearer. He sat utterly still within the palanquin.

Then, without warning, the door creaked open.

Qing Lin turned toward the sound—and froze.

A deathly pale woman stood there. Her eyes were devoid of pupils, her lips blood-red, and she wore a wedding gown identical to his own. The ceremonial robes were deep scarlet, yet her abdomen was soaked with blood.

The ghost bride climbed into the palanquin, gliding closer to Qing Lin. Her phoenix eyes lifted faintly, her lips curving into a hazy, seductive smile. She pressed a finger against her lips, wordlessly signaling him to stay silent.

Qing Lin couldn’t have spoken even if he tried—his body was locked in pure terror.

To come face-to-face with a ghost bride at such close range? Even the bravest heart would falter.

A sweet, intoxicating scent of incense surrounded him as she reached out. Only then did Qing Lin realize—her hand was made of paper.

Yet within that paper hand, she held something, which she quietly slipped into the pocket of his coat.

The ghost bride let out a soft, eerie laugh—bewitching and strange—as she whispered something unintelligible.

By the time Qing Lin came to his senses, she had vanished.

Once more, darkness engulfed everything.

He sat still for a moment, straining to listen, but the world remained silent. He knew he couldn’t simply sit there and wait for whatever horror came next.

Yet it seemed this secret chamber was observing their every move.

Just as Qing Lin started to rise, the palanquin suddenly lurched violently.

It wasn’t a mechanical motion this time—it was deliberate, erratic shaking from all directions.

Qing Lin was thrown backward as light burst through the window again—revealing corpse-like hands crawling toward him.

Seven or eight zombie NPCs appeared out of nowhere, snarling and clawing at him with twisted, bloodstained faces. Their makeup and costumes were disturbingly realistic, and they kept rocking the palanquin with wild enthusiasm, clearly intent on keeping Qing Lin off balance.

“Ah!” Even a god would’ve jumped. When one zombie grabbed his shoulder, Qing Lin shot to his feet.

If the production crew hadn’t explicitly warned him not to attack the NPCs, he might have punched one on instinct right then and there.

“Qing Lin!”

Qing Lin froze at the sound of Shen Xuzhi’s voice and quickly called back, “Shen Xuzhi! How do we get out of here?”

The zombies roared in response, their guttural howls echoing through the corridor as the flickering lights cast erratic, ghostly shadows along the walls.

Qing Lin steadied himself, the initial panic ebbing away. Their endless shrieking grated on his nerves, so he reached out and calmly pushed aside the NPC clawing at his sleeve.

Then, from beyond the chaos, he heard Shen Xuzhi’s voice draw closer and closer.

Qing Lin looked up just as the palanquin door swung open. Through the swarm of writhing zombies, Shen Xuzhi extended a hand toward him. “I’m here!”

The undead chorus erupted louder, as if intent on keeping them apart.

But the moment Qing Lin saw Shen Xuzhi, his fear dissolved. He gently brushed away a grasping zombie hand and, in perfect politeness, said, “Excuse me, could you please move aside?” Then he reached for Shen Xuzhi’s hand.

Shen Xuzhi grasped him firmly, pulling Qing Lin into his arms and lifting him out of the wedding palanquin in one swift motion.

The zombies, seeing the “newlyweds” emerge, howled with renewed fury and surged forward in waves.

Only then did Qing Lin realize how many there truly were. While seven or eight had encircled the palanquin, the long street ahead teemed with thirty—perhaps forty—of the undead.

They bent low, staggering and swaying like deranged dancers, lunging toward the couple.

“Shen Laoshi, run!”

Qing Lin gripped Shen Xuzhi’s hand tightly and bolted down the corridor.

The two of them—both clad in vivid scarlet ceremonial robes—ran side by side, their garments glimmering under the dim, trembling light.

Behind them, the horde gave chase, their shrieks and guttural cries merging into a grotesque, almost theatrical cacophony.

Qing Lin shouted, “There’s an exit here!”

Together, they shoved aside a mound of straw to reveal an opening—a hole leading into what looked like a narrow slide.

The zombies were nearly upon them. Without hesitation, Shen Xuzhi swept Qing Lin into his arms and dove into the hole.

The undead crowded at the entrance, reaching out futilely as the two men vanished from sight.

Shen Xuzhi, still in his wedding finery, felt silk brush against cold metal as they slid downward. He tried to slow their descent, but the darkness made it impossible to see. All he could do was hold Qing Lin tightly, shielding him with his body.

Then—

“!”

The passage ended abruptly, and they were flung out of the chute.

Qing Lin landed on something soft, only for Shen Xuzhi to fall directly on top of him.

Warmth pressed close. Shen Xuzhi braced his arms on either side of Qing Lin, effectively caging him within his embrace.

The position was… well, undeniably compromising.

Especially while dressed in matching wedding attire.

Qing Lin’s face turned crimson. From this angle, Shen Xuzhi’s downward gaze was unreasonably captivating, and his breath—still quick from their run—seemed to flutter right against Qing Lin’s racing heart.

Then Shen Xuzhi’s voice came, low and breathless. “Sorry…”

Low and heavy—like his breath.

Qing Lin suddenly felt the impulse to pull him down and kiss him, but after a brief moment of clarity, he realized something— they were sharing a bed.

…They had truly entered the bridal chamber.

Shen Xuzhi found their position far too suggestive. He was just about to tell Qing Lin to get up when a red light flared across the room.

Someone was there.

Qing Lin caught sight of a young woman in a skirt standing beside them. Instinctively, he yanked the quilt up to shield them both. As Shen Xuzhi opened his mouth to speak, Qing Lin pressed a finger to his lips, quietly shushing him.

Beneath the dim, crimson glow, the girl’s hair hung loose and wild. She sat before a low table, flipping frantically through stacks of books while muttering strange incantations under her breath.

“Xiao Ying, stop this! You haven’t eaten properly in days,” came an elderly woman’s anxious voice from nearby.

The girl, Xiao Ying, snapped back, “No! I told you, Qilang is still here! I can see him! He’s not dead!”

The old woman pleaded desperately, “Xiao Ying! Qilang is gone. Why won’t you accept it?”

“No… he can’t be dead. He was such a good man—so gentle. We promised to grow old together.” Xiao Ying lowered her head, murmuring feverishly, “But he really is dead… dead… Yet I can still see him. As long as I can see him, he isn’t truly gone.”

Then she suddenly grabbed the old woman’s hand, her eyes wide with a desperate gleam. “Mom, if that’s the case, then I’ll let everyone see him too! I can do it—I know how!”

“If you all see him, no one will call me mad anymore! Our family will be whole again!”

The old woman panicked. “Oh heavens! Don’t hurt yourself, child! Think of the baby in your belly!”

Qing Lin watched the scene unfold in silence. So, this young woman, Xiao Ying, was the bride—and the elderly woman beside her must be her mother.

He studied them carefully, eyes narrowing in realization. Then, turning to Shen Xuzhi, he whispered, “That old woman is—”

But their faces were so close—mere millimeters apart—that when Qing Lin turned his head, his lips accidentally brushed against Shen Xuzhi’s cheek.

Both of them froze.

His lips were soft and cool, yet the faint touch ignited sparks, burning through Shen Xuzhi’s veins like a sudden flame to dry tinder.

He was still holding Qing Lin in that close, protective embrace, their faces perfectly aligned now—so close that even the smallest movement would close the distance between their lips.

Qing Lin swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing—a detail Shen Xuzhi did not miss.

A faint smile flickered across Shen Xuzhi’s lips as he gently pulled the quilt up and over their heads.

Instantly, darkness enveloped them. All external sounds dulled, leaving only the thrum of their breath and the racing of their hearts. Qing Lin could feel the warmth of Shen Xuzhi’s breath brushing faintly against his nose.

No way.

Qing Lin’s heartbeat quickened violently. He instinctively shut his eyes.

Then came a low, amused chuckle.

Shen Xuzhi’s voice followed, teasing yet restrained. “What is the old woman?”

Qing Lin: “…”

He’s teasing again.

But this time, Qing Lin didn’t feel flustered. Instead, a wave of desire surged through him.

His amber eyes half-lidded, he leaned in, steady and deliberate, before tilting his head and brushing Shen Xuzhi’s lips with the lightest, softest touch—a fleeting kiss like the brush of butterfly wings.

Shen Xuzhi froze.

The one who had stolen that kiss in plain sight pulled back almost immediately, gazing up at him with serene innocence, as though nothing had happened.

Then, in an even tone, Qing Lin said, “That old woman is the one holding the lantern at the entrance of Qishan Manor.”

Shen Xuzhi didn’t hear a single word Qing Lin said.

Right now, all he wanted was to kiss the person beneath him—fiercely, without restraint—if only they weren’t filming a show.

He forced himself to hold back, again and again, suppressing the rising urge burning in his chest. Finally, he reached out and pinched Qing Lin’s waist lightly, a silent warning to rein himself in.

To be honest, Qing Lin was actually enjoying himself a little.

But he couldn’t get too carried away—things were starting to feel like they might get out of hand.

“Ah!!”

Xiao Ying’s sudden scream snapped them both back to their senses. Shen Xuzhi and Qing Lin immediately peeked out from beneath the quilt.

“I know! I know now! If we activate this soul-summoning ritual, everyone within the formation circle will be able to see him! Qilang! Qilang!”

Xiao Ying clutched the book tightly, her laughter rising into wild hysteria.

Then the red lamp flickered once—twice—before going out completely.

Darkness swallowed the room again.

Several minutes later, lights blazed to life throughout the chamber.

It truly was a bridal chamber, lavishly prepared for a wedding night. The walls were festooned with red banners and ornaments; the table was laden with wedding wine and pastries; even the bedding bore embroidered dragons and phoenixes symbolizing auspicious union.

Only now, under the full light, did Shen Xuzhi see Qing Lin clearly in his wedding attire.

Against the vivid scarlet silk, Qing Lin’s skin seemed pale as porcelain—delicate, cool, and luminous. Lying against the soft bedding, he was so strikingly beautiful it made Shen Xuzhi’s chest tighten.

Shen Xuzhi clenched his jaw, silently marveling at his own restraint.

After all, the secret chamber appeared empty now. Surely, looking a little longer wouldn’t hurt. So, he stayed still. The two lay side by side, unmoving, neither daring to break the quiet.

Then—

The wardrobe in the corner suddenly creaked open. Laughter erupted. “Oh my, oh my, still reluctant to get up?”

The two on the bed jolted in surprise, eyes snapping toward the sound.

One by one, the wardrobes in each corner burst open. Out stepped Su Mingxuan, Chen Xiangchao, and Zheng Qin—each wielding a makeshift musical instrument—and they began banging on drums and gongs with wild enthusiasm.

Su Mingxuan even broke into a folksy tune from his hometown, his voice ringing through the room:

“Yo-yo, newlyweds!

Yo-yo, bridal chamber!

May you bear a plump son!

May your family be filled with joy!”